Little Red
by Disaster-Zone
Summary: What happens when a toddler in a red cloak meets a wolf who can speak? Her life gets turned upside down and backwards. Only it'll be close to thirteen years before she ever see's him again.
1. The Nightmare Begins

A golden haired toddler scurried down the path towards her grandmothers house. Knowing the path quite well from the frequent trips there with her family she did not fear getting lost on the winding road. Instead she held with anticipation the greeting from her grandmother, someone always kind and smelling of cookies. A flash at the edge of the road distracted her from her excited thoughts and made her trail off towards it, curiosity getting the best of her childish naivety. Eyes of a killer sparkled in the bushes in front of her, and with a mind of an explorer she stepped off the path into uncharted territory.

The trees blocked the bright summer day and made the breeze a vicious cold wind. Wrapping her small red cloak around her body and pulling the hood over her head, the toddler feared no evil. Hearing a crack of dried leaves she whipped around to face a furry black face. Holding in a scream she stared at the sparkling green eyes of the animal in front of her. He snarled and bared his fangs and in return she bared her small teeth - thinking a game of the interaction. The wolf coughed a laugh and layed down to be at the same height with her. And then he did something thought impossible - He spoke.

**"What brings you into my forest? His voice was deep and rough. Do you not know of the killers this place holds?"**

The little girl shook her head, unwilling to speak. The wolf looked out towards the road.

**"You should leave."**

Without a thought about the command the young girl fled, darting out of the woods and onto the dirt path.

Forgetting the dip in the road because of adventure she just had, the toddler tripped and face planted on the ground, her red cloak falling down around her. A wail erupted from underneath as the child began to stand but she was soon swept off her feet and put into the loving arms of her mother.

Soothing her daughter into a calm whimper the mother checked her for cuts. Seeing none she smiled at the young child and said in a nurturing voice

**"Don't cry darling, you re fine."**

and kissing her forehead the mother placed her back on the ground and warned her to go slow. Of course no child of five knows what slow really is, and once the girl gained her confidence again she was running just as joyfully down the road.

The mother and father smiled at each other and carried on, neither noticing the menacing presence in the surrounding woods. The large black wolf watched the family carefully, planning on making the young child his first meal of the day. But the parents were no fools, and while they didn't worry about their daughter enough to keep watch on the forest, they stayed close enough to ward off any trouble.

The wolf could tell when he had no chance in the matter and ran off into the forest in search of a different meal, but an idea struck him and he had just the thing in mind to make the child his. For wolves were cunning and wicked, much more so then they are today.

The day way peaking as the little girl jumped onto the front porch of her grandmothers house, knocking eagerly at the door with her small fist. Her parents reached her soon, also knocking on the door in case the grandmother hadn't heard her granddaughter. Suspicion aroused the two when moments went by with no sound from the inside and the father -his mother being the one indoors- walked around back to see if she was gardening. He barely made it around the second corner of the house before a pack of wolves darted from the woods and dragged him away with only a blood curdling scream to follow.

Gasping and running to the side railing of the porch the mother screamed and ran after her husband, forgetting her child for only a moment. This was the wolf s chance. The meal he wanted was right in front of him, wailing for her mother. Springing forward to his meal, he could taste the child before he got her, but a gun shot went off...

And the child awoke to the reality she called home.


	2. Another Soul

In this reality, home was a flat found on the Lower East side. The busiling streets and constant noise were no match for the wild child who lived inside. Rock music blared as the nineteen year old hellraiser danced around her apartment, her blonde ringlets bouncing with red streaks. The fragmented dream was long forgotten as she pulled on her red plaid shorts and black tank top, though the image of the wolf would be forever imprinted in her mind as it had been since she was a young girl.

The flat was bare, save a small televsion and a pull-out couch. The grey concrete walls and old broken windows didn't leave much to the imagination, but the rent was cheap and Abigail enjoyed all the little knicks and cracks, thinking it gave the one room character. To her it didn't matter how much she had, whether it be money or material objects. She had a passion for the arts and to her the flat was one big art project. The only objects she cared for were the very expensive camera on her kitchen counter - a Canon EOS 5D Mark II - and the photographs she took with it.

It was in this apartment that abigail took her photographs of the city. The water being just outside her window and the streets below being packed with the most interesting people she had ever met. As she went about her day she would snap pictures of the people and places that spiked her curiosity most. A crack in the side of the wall. A hobo on the street. Her favorite photo being one of a crumpled news paper rolling across the road. Taken in the dead of night with no person or cars, and the moon light hitting the features of the buildings around her just right. This picture hung in her grandmothers home.

A home she once called hers.

For a split second the memory of her parents jumped into her mind. Abigail had not seen her parents since she was a toddler, their lives being snatched away by a pack of wolves who were threatened by their presence. The only family she had left was her grandmother, whom she had not seen in a number of years.

She shook the image from her head. It was not the time for those memories. The day was bright, accepting, beautiful. Muttering something about 'wasting the day' she went for the front door, grabbing her camera as she did.

It was night before she returned home. Trudging up the four story building she looked toward the phone that sat on the window sill, expecting there to be a little flashing zero on the answering machine but instead finding a bright and steady one. Intrigued as to who would call her she dumped her things on the kitchen counter and pressed the play button on her answering machine. The recording scratching before playing back to her.

_"This is Captain Wittaker of the Greenscounty Police Department. If this is the home of Abigail Elizabeth Bartell please have her call me at my office - my number is 588-7652. This is an urgent message regarding her grandmother Alice Bartell. Thank You."_

Before the message was over Abigail was on the phone.

**"Greenscounty Police Department, how may I help you?"**  
The receptionists greeted Abigail.

**"Hi, I got a call from Captain Wittaker. My name is Abigail Bartell."**  
She replied shakily into the phone. I moment of silence and the receptionist replied.

**"One moment please."**

After two agonizing minutes Captain wittaker answered.  
**"Wittaker."**

**"Uhm, Hello. This is Abigail Bartell, I got your message about my grandmother. Is something wrong?"**  
Wittaker took a breath before replying.  
**"Ms. Bartell.. I'm sorry to tell you this but your grandmother passed away this morning in a county hospital. Last night we got a call from her neighbours reporting a dis..-"**

Abigail didn't hear anything after that. Didn't want to hear anything. Her grandmother was gone and she wasn't there when she needed her. Abigail collapsed on the floor and let a few tears escape but whiped them away quickly. Her grandmother would not stand for tears, she'd want Abigail to be happy, to celebrate her life and not mourn over her death. She would go to Greenscounty, get everything worked out, but she could not stay in her grandmothers home. Too many memories.


	3. Meeting

_Why does anything in life have to change?_

Abbey opened her eyes after a long nap on her couch and lifted herself up. The flashing green lights on her clock said 4:38 in the morning, but she had never trusted the time there. Even more so now; the sun came in through the windows of her apartment, almost blindingly. She ran her hands over her face, wiping the sleep from her eyes and looked around the room. Everything in the apartment was boxed up and the walls were bare. It was frightening to her; thinking of the place she called home for so long, then reminding herself it wasn't hers anymore.

It was even more frightening to remind herself she was moving, from her fifth floor walk-up in Toronto, to the desolate forest land of Dartmouth. Dartmouth didn't hold anything for her – apart from the nightmares of a former life. It had been six years since she was last there, and it was only for a week to visit her grandmother on Christmas. Even that had been too much for her.

Dartmouth wasn't the bustling metropolis that Toronto was. Especially not in the area she was going. An hour outside the city limits was a small town, if you could call it that, by the name of  
Ship Harbour. Not a house within four kilometers of each other. A wasteland.

Checking the time on her cell phone, 12:42 in the afternoon, Abbey sighed and stretched. The moving truck would be there any minute; her flight would be an hour after that, and from there… She didn't want to think that far ahead. She didn't want to think about living in the small fishing community, and the even smaller cabin her grandmother called home.

The door-bell chimed – the moving van was here. She took one last look around her apartment and asked herself "Are you ready?"

Grandmother lived down a long, bendy road that most vehicles couldn't travel through; it was too narrow and either end fell into a wide ditch. So instead of risking getting stuck, the truck drivers dumped Abbey's boxes at the end of the road, with a mumble of apologies, and drove off.

"Fuckin' truckers…" Abbey huffed and sat on the largest box. The walk to the cabin was a good fifteen to twenty minutes, depending on how fast you were walking. Twenty-five if you were carrying something heavy. It dawned on her that not only would this chore take her half the day, but she would most likely throw her back out doing it.

"… Might as well buy some alcohol first."

Dusk set in before she finished the boxes, and along with it came a steady drunk. Abbey stacked the last box in her grandmother's living-room and fell onto the couch. She sighed in relief as her muscles relaxed, even more when she took another sip of her rum and coke. She flipped her blonde hair over the arm of the couch and ran her hands through it. She could feel the warmth from the sun in it still, as with on her skin – now slightly tanned. Her whole body buzzed from the alcohol and she found herself beginning to fall asleep.

Her green eyes snapped open at the sound of the door. Who would bother to walk down that road? Did anyone know she had moved back here? Abbey doubted it and rolled off the couch to peek out the window. A tall, muscular man stood at the door. His hair was jet black and he had a serious look on his face.

_Too serious. _ She thought as she walked over to the door. A rap came from it again just as she opened the door to find the too serious man standing in front of her.

He came to find a beautiful woman standing in front of him, rather than the owner of the house – whom he was looking for. Seeing Abbey burned away any thought of her.

Abbey cocked an eye-brow and put a hand on her hip. "Can I help you?"

The man nearly stuttered. Why had he come to this house? He mentally slapped himself, shaking his head as he did.

"Sorry." He said, rubbing the base of his neck. "I'm Dom Powley. I was looking for the woman who lives here."

Abbey spun the glass in her hand, listening to the tinkling of the glass inside the cup.

"Sorry, she's dead."

Dom was taken aback, partly by the news, and partly by how this woman didn't seem to give a shit.

"Is there anything else I can help you with?"

Dom shook his head but not as a reply. "What do you mean she's dead? I saw her at the beginning of summer, I've only been gone a few weeks, what happened?"

Abbey scoffed. "She was attacked by a wild dog. Police department said it was a wolf. I'm sorry, who are you? My grandmother never mentioned a Dom. "

"Dominick Hart, I live just up the road. I used to help Lacey around the yard.. Wait, you're Abigail?" Dom could hardly believe this was Lacey's granddaughter.

"You're older than I expected." The words just slipped out.

Abbey sighed and stepped out of the doorway. "Why don't you come in and have a drink. Anyone could use one after that kind of news."


End file.
